Contusion
by pantyslime
Summary: The only bruises the two had ever gotten from each other were from their fists and their feet, right? Right? ...right? B/BH
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah, and I bet all these years that you dilweeds thought the bruises were only from the fights.**

-o-o-o-

You know what? You would think that after a while, the two wouldn't get bruises anymore. Having been in so many fights with each other, you would _also_ think that their skin should've been immune to any sort of discoloration, but alas there was always some marking or another on either of them at any given moment. While we're at it, one would _also _assume that the two must've gotten in a lot of fights in order for these sorts of things to happen, right? Well, that would only be half the truth.

-o-

It was truly a rare occasion that either Beavis or Butt-head ever deemed it necessary to go to school, but today was Monday and both Saturday and Sunday had really _sucked._ There was nothing on TV, there was no Anderson or Stewart to bother, and there was no Todd to curb their boredom. Public education was unfortunately and inevitably the next best thing.

"Good morning, pupils!" Mr. Van Driessen chirped at the front of the classroom. He flitted across the chalkboard in an attempt to write down some lengthy words, but Beavis and Butt-head were too busy contemplating whether he just called the kids an eyeball or not to care. Lining their faces and arms were bruises in all sizes and colors and they did not go unnoticed by their teacher.

"Oh my goodness, Beavis! Butt-head! Where did all these bruises come from?" the grown flower child asked, raising each teenager's arms and examining the pale skin underneath. His voice was calm yet concerned, as it often was when the two presented signs of the lack of a guardian in their lives.

Butt-head merely chuckled while Beavis yelped at the unsuspecting teacher, "Ah! Don't touch me, ass wipe!" He tore his arm from Van Driessen's grasp and mumbled under his breath. In pulling his hand back towards his own body, he hit Butt-head on the arm—more specifically, on a bruise.

"Augh! Don't touch _me,_ butt munch!" Butt-head retorted, using the accident as an excuse to punch Beavis in the face. Beavis, in turn, took _that_ as a cue to kick Butt-head in the nads, and the exchange of hitting and kicking continued until Mr. Van Driessen sacrificed his well-being in an attempt to separate the two.

"You two have become exceptionally distressing in the past week," the teacher noted, holding the two back by their foreheads.

Butt-head disagreed. "Beavis just bruises easily 'cause he's a wussie. Uh huh huh."

The blonde told his companion to shut up, and offered the logic that no, he did _not_ bruise easily; Butt-head just hit him a lot in the same spot because he was a boring dilweed with nothing better to do.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you two to continue your presence here in such a violent state of mind. I'm going to have to send you home for the day," their virtuous teacher said as he wrote down a pass. He also wrote down a number for an anger management hotline. "I want you to call this number whenever you're feeling angry, or could use someone to talk to rather than to beat up. Have a good day now." He handed the two papers to Beavis, who held them for about six and a half seconds before walking out with Butt-head, crumpling the papers, and tossing them to the ground after missing the garbage can.

"Huh huh huh, if I had known beating each other up got us out of school, I would've hit you more often."

"Shut up butthole! I could kick your ass—see? You have bruises, too."

Butt-head ignored the fact that Beavis was talking about the ones on his arms and said, "Bruises on my knuckles from hitting you don't count, dumbass."

"Heh heh heh, oh yeah. Getting out of school is pretty cool, but getting hit so much sucks."

"You wuss."

"No I'm not! Like, the bruises and stuff are really cool, but the hitting kinda sucks, you know?"

"Huh huh huh, uhhh...no."

"Heh heh."

-o-

_breakin' the law breakin' the law_


	2. Chapter 2

**INTERMISSION! DUN dun dun DUN dun dun DUN dun dun DUN DUN /headbangs**

-o-o-o-

_Fighting crime, trying to save the world, here they come just in time…_

"Damn it, Beavis, why do I even bother letting you have the remote if you're just gonna make us watch this wussie crap?" Butt-head barked, smacking his blonde companion upside his head.

"Hey cut it out! You're the one with the remote, bunghole!" Beavis retaliated, rubbing his jaw. He began mumbling something else, but Butt-head's hand struck his face once more and therefore cut him off.

"Whatever, butt munch. I'm gonna go to the bathroom. And you'd better change the channel by the time I get back or I'm gonna smack your dumb into next week or something."

When Beavis had totally assured himself that Butt-head was in the bathroom and had shut the door, he shut off the television without a second thought and stood up himself. He began quietly laughing, walking towards the bathroom door and muttering, "Yeah, that'll show him."

Now you see, the peculiar thing about their house's bathroom was that the light-switch was on the outside. Why? They didn't know. To be honest, it wasn't their stupid house; they were just mooching off whoever died or…whatever the story of the previous owner was. The light-switch had provided several opportunities for some excellent prankage before, but again, if we're being honest here, the dudes hadn't used their own bathroom in ages. At this point, Beavis was sure that Butt-head had long forgotten about the lack of an inner light-switch.

His finger only hesitated for a moment. Biting his lip to hold back a laugh, he swiped his hand across the wall, watching the color from under the crack of the door go from a yellow-beige color to black.

Surprisingly enough, you'd actually be wrong to think that Butt-head was a _complete _dumbass and thought the power went out or something like that. It was hard to hear over, well, the sound of himself peeing, but he _did _hear the little fartknocker walk quietly across the carpet. The couch must've been closer than he thought, though, because the light went out before he had time to yell at Beavis not to come in.

"Augh, damn it, Beavis!"

Now remember, because Butt-head wasn't a _complete_ dumbass, he didn't stop to ask or demand that Beavis turn the light back on. Instead, he zipped up his fly and began stomping towards the door. And this may sound silly, but Beavis wasn't a _complete_ dumbass either. He waited for two stomps and then turned the light on. The stomps slowed, but didn't stop. So he waited for a stomp and a half (yes, the half is important) before he turned the light back off.

This is why the half-a-stomp was important: Butt-head tripped.

Beavis laughed.

Butt-head, from the floor, swung the door open and swung his arm to buckle Beavis' legs from underneath him.

Beavis fell.

The two fought.

Everyone had a grand old time.

Then they, covered with (yup, you guessed it) bruises, walked back over to the couch and Butt-head turned the TV back on.

Some young wimpy-looking girls in green, red, and blue were punching this ugly, fuzzy, pink guy in the face.

"Huh huh huh, whoa! Check it out!"

"Heh heh, these little girls are pretty badass."

"Uhhh. I bet they could kick your ass."

"No way, dude."

And then they spent the rest of the day watching cartoons and arguing about the probability of their asses being kicked by cartoon characters.

-o-

_breakin' the law breakin' the law_


	3. Chapter 3

**Intermission's over. You know what that means…**

_**BBBUUURRRGGGEEERRR TTTAAAGGG**_

-o-o-o-

"Heh heh, ow. Heh heh, ow. Heh heh, ow."

"Shut up, Beavis."

"Heh heh, ow."

"What's the matter with you?"

"I think there's like, a bruise on my foot or something."

"You bunghole. You can't get bruises on your foot."

"Shut up fartknocker, you can too. I've seen 'em. Heh, ow."

The rest of the walk home from school was pretty quiet and boring. They didn't have their bikes because they woke up late, and because they woke up late, they were just gonna skip altogether. But once again, fate had other plans for the two. There was literally nothing on TV that day, so they decided to run around outside and had somehow ended up in front of Highland High. Butt-head asked if they should just go ahead and go since their weekend had been so horrible, and Beavis half-heartedly reasoned that there was nothing better to do. So in they went and then right back out they came.

When they arrived at the front door, it wouldn't open for them. How the hell did that happen? They were pretty sure they hadn't locked it because they never kept a key anyways.

"Uhhhhh. You should, like, kick it down. Huh huh."

"Um. Heh heh, no way butt munch. You can take care of this one."

"Either you kick the door down or I'm gonna kick _you_ down."

Beavis, ever reluctant, lifted his foot and tapped the door with it. Butt-head smacked the back of his head for what must've been the sixteenth time that day and told him to do it right. Grumbling, Beavis managed to make himself look more stupid than he did already and used both his arms and one leg to slam against the door, but it was no use. He just ended up hurting himself and yelping.

As Beavis tended to his aching foot, Butt-head laughed and said, "Here, let a real man do it." He faced the door, spat in his hands, and dramatically took hold of the doorknob. Turning it slightly, they heard a click and _voila! _the door was open.

"Whoa! Heh heh, how did you do that?" Beavis asked, almost stupidly flabbergasted.

"Uhhhhh, huh huh. I'm a wizard."

"Heh heh heh. Cool, but you probably shouldn't touch your own wand so much," Beavis said, walking toward the doorway. But before he could get inside the house, Butt-head slammed the door on him and that ended up costing him another bruise on the forehead. He picked himself up, opened the door, and went straight to the couch. He sat down and looked at Butt-head, waiting until he returned the glare.

And then he kicked him in the nads.

As soon as Butt-head was done groaning about it, Beavis told him not to shut the door on him ever again.

-o-

About a week and a bunch of yellowing bruises later, Beavis and Butt-head were cozied into their signature dents on their favorite couch and flipping through more channels to find something good. They accidentally flipped past what looked like a completely naked girl and frantically tried to switch back, but the shot was long gone. The scene looked like it was from the same video, though, so they stayed on the channel.

To their dismay, the girl hadn't been completely naked—she was just ghostly pale and wearing white underwear with an extremely thin layer of white lace covering her up. But still, that was pretty naked, and therefore also pretty sweet.

The music sucked, but the video made up pretty well for it—it was borderline pornographic and that was enough to keep the teenagers entertained.

One point in the story was the most intriguing of all: a man had his lips on the woman's neck, and when the two parted, there was a lovely little bruise where his mouth had been.

"Did you see that?" Butt-head asked.

"Yeah! Heh heh I guess his tongue hit her pretty hard."

"You dumbass, that's not what happened!"

"Oh. Then what happened?"

"Uhhhh. Hm. I dunno. Huh huh."

"Maybe we should ask Daria tomorrow."

"Uh. Okay."

Poor girl.

-o-o-o-

_breakin' the law breakin' the law_


	4. Chapter 4

**Burger Tag sucked. It sucked so much that the suck carried around all the way across the world and actually started blowing.**

-o-o-o-

The bus ride to school the next day was oddly quiet, as both Beavis and Butt-head were far too busy catching up on all the sleep they missed the night before. They'd spent their time debating extremely important matters like which bands were and weren't cool, which got them into a fight; what the best sexual experience would be; and what would be the best crime to commit to get Todd's attention and possible initiation into his gang. They spent hours watching music videos and talking as they often did, but this was one of those rare instances where they were so engrossed in the conversation that they actually _forgot_ to go to sleep.

When the bus stopped, the jolt from the brakes woke Butt-head up and he had to smack Beavis to get him to do the same. Mumbling, groaning, really any type of complaining there was to do, the two stepped down the aisle. And the stairs. And the curb. And more stairs. And then they went straight into their classroom, eager enough to quiz Daria on her knowledge of skin and the discoloration thereof to deal with the pain of _public education_.

Lucky for the demented duo, today was a movie day. The class was set to learn about the functions of the endocrine system and much to everyone's dismay, yes—there was a worksheet to fill out. Beavis and Butt-head, of course, pushed theirs to the side and forgot about it until the opportune moment to ask Daria about what they had seen the day before.

"Hey, Dia—" Butt-head stopped himself. She'd probably ignore him if he chose not to address her by her actual name. That would suck. "Uh, Daria." The girl turned her head to acknowledge that she was listening, but her pencil stayed over her worksheet in case an answer came along. "Hey, c'mere, we hafta ask you something."

"We're in the middle of the video," she responded, lowering her eyebrows.

"It's like, important."

"Look, I'll talk to you after—" she paused, groaning when she missed an answer. "After the video, okay?" She turned back towards the screen and left Butt-head to stare into nothingness for the remainder of the film. Beavis had been long gone within the confines of sleep, and wouldn't even wake up when Mr. Van Driessen flicked the lights back on. However, Daria was still in her seat, eyes down at her paper, head not moving even once. She said she would come here, why wasn't she doing it? It had been minutes. A lot of them.

Butt-head, irritated, flicked his pencil at her and hit her right on the back of the head. It didn't hurt, as the pencil had lost momentum mid-air, but it still hit her.

Now Daria, also irritated, turned around and gave them the death glare. "Will you hold on? I'm trying to fill in the answer that you made me miss, which you're also making me miss _again._ Give me five minutes and I'll tell you everything you ever wanted to know—so it shouldn't take very long."

Butt-head scoffed and didn't even care to come up with a rude response. I mean, this whole bruise-from-the-mouth thing; this was pretty important. Daria just didn't understand.

You know…if Butt-head ever sighed, then no one was ever around or awake to hear it. But that's exactly what he did as he waited for Daria to supply him with some damn information. He looked over to Beavis, still passed out on his desk and his paper dangerously close to falling to the ground. Butt-head raised a hand so that he could smack him awake, but Daria called his name before he could follow through. Instead, his hand just kind of sailed past his desk and the gust of air knocked Beavis' paper to the ground.

The girl marched up to Butt-head's desk, hands promptly at her side, and asked what the hell it was that he was just so eager to learn.

"Where do bruises come from?" he asked, followed by a short chuckle.

Daria didn't think it was possible for her shoulders to stoop lower than they had, but they did. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Uh. No."

"Oh, god. Well, a bruise is what happens when a blood vessel is ruptured, but the skin isn't broken. It usually results in discoloration that fades over time."

"Uhhh…the King's English, please?"

"It's like getting a cut through everything but your skin."

"Okay but like, can you get a bruise from your mouth?"

"You mean like a hickey?"

"What the hell is a hickey?"

Daria could _not_ believe her ears. For someone who knew pretty much every sexual term that one could create a term for, this little virgin didn't know what a _hickey_ was? After a few moments of thoughtful processing, she realized hey, it's not his fault. She supposed hickeys were a bit more personal than the blowjobs and breasts they were probably used to seeing in their spare time, so she tried not to give him too hard a time.

Holding back a grin, Daria explained. "I'll tell you what. You guys have enough bruises to last a pro-wrestler a lifetime. Why don't you go home, try to form yourselves a hickey or two, and if you come back with one, I'll letcha know if it's real."

"Damn it, you could've just said no!" he responded, annoyed that most of the information had gone over his head. A hickey was probably just a fancy college-kid word for bruise. What, so he and Beavis had to figure out a way to give themselves _hickeys_? Fine. No problem. They'd go home and be _covered_ with hickeys the next day; it wouldn't be hard. That'd show Daria.

-o-o-o-

_breakin' the law breakin' the law_


End file.
